"sats" poems
I have longed for this year since fourth grade
When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was
And realized I wanted to be one.
I have longed for this year since I was fifteen
And wanted to leave home
Go out and explore the bigger world
Free of parents and noisy siblings.
I have longed for this year since my first college tour
And I saw the hubbub
The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts
And noticed how small and quiet my high school was.
We picked out caps and gowns
Red
We lead the pep rallies now
The loudest yet
We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs
Feeling scholarly
We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas
First M. Last
We have our licenses
Drive to school
We fill out college applications endlessly
And endlessly...
We picked our prom theme
Great Gatsby
We're getting lazy very quickly
Senioritis
Graduation keeps us going
Graduation is the goal
Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel
Graduation in June
Graduation in red polyester
Graduation in the sun
Graduation is the end
But wait.
Hold up.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP!
Seven more months with you?
You, who I've stared at for four years?
You, whose smiles make my day?
You, whose face I look for in crowds?
You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met?
You, who I haven't even asked out?
You, who have no idea who I feel?
You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way?
You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life?
You?
Seven. Months.?
HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
She woke up early
To see what the Easter Bunny brought her
And she fed her dog jellybeans
And she put on her new baby blue dress
With the matching hat
And couldn't sit still in Church.
She woke up early
To find that the Easter Bunny only brought Dad’s favorite candy
And her mom sat her down
And said, “The Easter Bunny is a fantasy”
And her dog got stomach cancer and couldn't eat the jellybeans.
Her baby blue dress was too small
But she wore it anyways
With pants underneath
And the matching hat,
And she got a cramp in her neck
From counting the ceiling tiles in church.
She woke up early
To the sound of her parents fighting
And she climbed into the bed of the pickup truck
And told her brother about Easters he was too young to remember
Of baby blue dresses
With matching hats
And how they used to have a dog that ate the jellybeans.
She wore her pajamas to church
And refused to get out of the car.
Not even when her mother cried.
She woke up late
To the sound of DVR’d episodes of Pawn Stars
And her dad told her that taking the SATs once was not good enough
And her boyfriend needs to take driver’s ed.
And they didn't go to church
Because her mom didn't live there anymore.
So she put on a different dress,
Dark blue with no matching hat,
And drove that pickup truck off the bridge.
Laughing as the cab filled up
With death’s cold fingers.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
Everywhere I look now
I’m reminded of the past
When we were kids together,
And forever’s meant to last.
High school was that future thing
You thought you’d never reach
Now you’re there, so unprepared
It’s still hard to believe.
I thought I knew just what to do
But now my paths are crossed.
It used to be all fun and games,
And time was never lost.
No one asked these questions,
“What next? How not? Why me?”
It was all inside the moment,
We believed in who we’d be.
But now I take the SATs
In Physics, nonetheless
I finally beat forever
I never would have guessed.
Girls wear make up everyday
And “like” has turned to “love”
I miss the way it used to be,
I miss when we were young.
‘Cause children don’t take SATs
And children don’t regret
Kids rejoice in what they have,
And loving what they get.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
I go to bed early and am quick to rise,
my room is tidy as can be.
Heaven forbid I should ever tell lies,
I have no faults, or can’t you see?
Whenever my parents wish to speak
I turn an ever eager ear.
Never would I give them cheek,
that is too brash for me, I fear.
My teachers’ words are my priority,
never would I cause them duress.
I must bow to their seniority,
and never will it cause me stress.
Juggling six demanding classes
is such a simple thing to do.
That’s six straight-A passes,
a 4.0 is nothing new.
Exercise is an important act,
all the leading physicians say,
So tennis, soccer and varsity track
are how I fill the rest of my day.
But as each evening wears on,
after days that were just too speedy,
I am constantly drawn
to serve meals to the needy.
I always speak grace before we eat,
in the most humble and catholic way,
so for food, light and heat
and for God’s love I truly pray.
This is my third square meal
that I’ve enjoyed today,
with portions small so I don’t feel
that I’ve increased what I weigh.
Now to homework I must run,
with adequate time for all.
Equations and essays are so much fun,
and studying history I would never stall.
On the weekends my friends and I
have more fun than you could know.
Root beer and warm apple pie
bring us from sugar high to low.
Despite my perfect SATs
I am more than intellectual.
My drawing skills, if you please,
are much more than ineffectual.
And on the stage I am a riot,
My singing voice is like a bell.
My pirouettes and leaps are oh so quiet,
Is there anything I can’t do well?
Mediocrity would be such a drag,
why would anyone choose it?
I wave perfection like a flag,
it has always been the perfect fit.
Why do some make it seem so tough?
Isn’t this everyone’s goal?
The pure exhaustion isn’t that rough.
And all perfection cost was my soul.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
Take my hand, friend
just for a sec-
let's leave this ****** land of
SATs, PSATs, APs,
and college admission essays and guidance counselors
and homework and pop quizzes and exams and whatever else-
behind.
Let's be two again.
Let's make Pringle-chip-duck faces
and grin with orange peel smiles-
I'll paint my nails yellow and we'll read Dr. Seuss with British accents
in the dimming light of the old
falling-down fort of pillows and blankets (that's almost too small for us)
Let's pretend
Let's pretend
Let's pretend
That we've never seen the glowing screen of
televisions, computers, IPods,
that we haven't spent weeks wearing down our thumbs on text messages.
Let's forget fights over boys that weren't even all that hot.
Let's sit in my yard and eat raw cookie dough behind my momma's back
And make too-sweet fresh lemonade, and blow dandelions
(into other neighbor's yards, of course)
Spray garden hoses at each other
and laugh and scream and giggle and make mud-pies.
Let's make twenty different secret handshakes,
Eat wild raspberries and hide sticky fingers
And pinky promise- again and again- BFFs forever.
Let's lose ourselves in the bliss of childhood
just one more time- please.
Just in case Peter Pan decides to visit.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 7:40 PM UTC
*** a knife in my chest,
Not a day I rest.
My anxiety is too high,
I have not a clue why.
They threw a book at my face,
And expected me to work at their pace.
All of a sudden work became too much to handle,
I sit in mental agony, trembling with a melted candle.
it seems unjust, unfair,
To now have me decide; to fully care.
I am baffled as to why there was a requirement,
I feel trapped inside an isolated environment.
Did they ask about my feelings?
Did they wonder what I knew?
Did they care I favored my abilities over theirs?
Did they realize this much is true?
The book beside me is relentless,
It motions for me to work day after day,
But I sit there with stress raging over me,
Will I be okay?
I try and I try,
To greatly improve in this never-ending book of lies,
For an outstanding score,
And the disappearance of my sighs.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
The Blue of the Democrats
The Red of the Republicans
Where is the White of The People?
When did We The People become,
We The Separated?
In times like these.
We cannot look to the government.
We The People, must look to ourselves!
United We Stand!
Divided We Fall!
The government was never
fat politicians.
It was We The People
Where is the Red, White, and Blue?
We are the Government.
We don't have the luxury
to blame ourselves.
We The People.
Of the United States of America
must stand against today's problems.
Not debt.
Not war.
Not education.
But laziness,
disunity,
and hopelessness.
Blaming the government,
is blaming We The People.
Blaming your neighbors.
Blaming your friends.
What happened to Uncle Sam?
He fell and We ignored him.
Our Uncle Sam is still there.
begging for help,
We keep walking.
Now We ask each other.
Where is Uncle Sam?
Where is Patriotism?
Why is our country in disarray?
I say,
look unto yourself
We The People
have become lazy
have become confused
have become weak
The World is turning.
Mother of time is ready
to spit out the old,
and chew,
on the new.
Like Rome.
We seen our final glorious days.
The New World dawns.
But I tell you my friend.
It is not too late.
We have all heard and saw Rome's dismay.
It is not too late.
It is not too late.
We can learn from the Romans.
We can turn from our ways of laziness.
Help Uncle Sam!
Bring a New America.
Out with the Old!
In with the New!
Uncle Sam has a lot on his plate.
The War in Afghanistan,
His debt to China,
and His fading economy.
We can't help him by solving those problems.
But let us,
We The People.
Clean His home.
Sing a song to him.
Our all-american Uncle.
Fix his home.
Let us We The People take the first step,
if you see kids on the streets,
yell at them,
"Did you do your homework?"
"Are you studying for your SATs?"
Encourage!
If We are at work.
Don't play FarmVille.
Work knowing this,
You are fighting for America,
everyday is another dollar off of Uncle Sam's debt.
You are the frontline in this war against time.
If We are at school.
Stop flirting with random girls or boys,
with intent of ***
Know this, you are next.
We are The People.
Kids build the bullets of Uncle Sam's Gun,
through education.
If Uncle Sam has good bullets, he will win his battle,
If Uncle Sam has bad bullets, he will lose his battle.
When Uncle Sam goes to battle with the other countries,
your bullets will be the difference between America the destroyed,
and America the victorious.
We Are The People.
We Are The Future.
We Are The Government.
Never forget that.
So next time you ask yourself,
how did this happen?
Look at yourself,
remind everybody.
We are The People.
We need to work harder America.
There is no question to that.
That is the Modern Common Sense.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
I imagine I must talk to my dead seventh grade teacher
who told me to be better, who
told off the children when they brought me a butcher knife
because I cannot learn algebra if I am dead.
The deceased are more than likely with the sun
wherever it is right now. Tomorrow’s twilight, I will find
my dead seventh grade math teacher
stand on my tippy-toes,
try to be as tall as him and ask if he still thinks I should be
alive. Five years later and I cannot understand
why a person with his same name could
ruin my life when he, in turn, saved mine. I am a bad
person for wishing she were the one that the flu took then.
Unlike the others,
Mr. Kats did not mention the SATs or growing up. He
would not be there to see either happen
and I bet he believed God knew.
Then again, I knew the side of him that did not
know God well enough to remind me of a Mormon church
until I saw his youngest daughter alone on her knees
whilst the eldest sang about how
her father would never need to move with
a walker. I held my best friend’s hand
when we met his corpse, because he had saved her too.
I imagine we must talk, but not for me to tell him
that I do not care about algebra, I guess he already realizes.
We were never really special to each other
when I think about it,
he was too strict and I was too sad and now it’s too quiet:
I haven’t entered a classroom since, died some as well
but my only punishment
was a broken heart by his reincarnate. There was no lesson.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?
Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 1:03 AM UTC
My hands are shaking,
My heart beats fast,
Your eyes have been glistening
In my mind for a while.
Sun-kissed skin and alcohol in our veins
and I wish to say we're in love,
but this isn't some cliché.
Oh I wish I was beautiful,
but God I am far from that.
I'll never be enough to have you,
not even every once in a while.
My bloodstream's still rushing,
my eyes flushed with tears.
Your lips smell like ***
and I wish to get drunk,
I fear.
Drunk stories,
siblings and SATs,
break ups
and cancer,
that made your dad ill.
You'll never smoke cigarettes,
They killed him you said.
Smoking hookah isn't any better.
You're stubborn,
and beautiful,
have I said?
You're young,
though you've lived so much.
Catastrophes have blown by.
But my God,
those eyes radiate innocence.
I'd look at you all night.
I feel like quoting a poem I found
"My parents warned me about drugs on the streets
but never the ones with hazel eyes
and a heartbeat"
I wish I'd written that,
it seems all about you.
Those hazel eyes are guns,
a kiss would pull the trigger
and make our heartbeats one.
Don't look at me that way,
Stop smiling or the stars will be jealous of your glow,
You speak,
I shiver,
my heart's about to blow.
And what would've happened if I'd been taken by the waves that day?
If I had sunk with the ocean at noon instead?
Your eyes would be unknown,
your heart undiscovered.
But I would rest in peace
without your haunting memory under my covers.
The wind breaks through and I think of you.
The sea resembles your eyes.
And thank God I'm not drunk,
because I'd dial your number and cry.
I thought I hated the beach,
but now it reminds of you.
Crap, I thought I was tough.
You bring my soft side out, too.
The stars were the witnesses,
of my soul falling in love.
The moon was hidden.
She was also scared,
I thought.
She knew how this would go.
'Not again', she mumbled.
4 am tears and melancholic poems,
she'd take care of,
and months of thunder rumble.
The moon hopes for no more sadness,
and my wishes,
for once,
to come true.
But God,
he won't love me,
and she knows that too.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
Freshman year:
"Creepy-Crusty Freshman"
We thought we had it together,
but everyone else knew.
We were just beginning,
We were separate, naive and secluded.
Sophomore year:
Forgotten students.
Not ready for college
Yet not a new baby to coddle,
We were simple floating and following the beaten path.
Junior Year:
Most stressful endeavors
ACTs, SATs, AP tests
Do good they said,
Prepare for senior year,
"It goes by fast"
So do this and do that, but don't do that.
Senior Year:
Apply for colleges!
Don't be late! Meet the deadlines!
Senioritis.
We wanted it to go by fast and they said it would, and it did.
So fast that our last day was March 16th
Instead of May 22nd
We had no idea that we would never say a proper goodbye,
that we would never throw our caps to fly high,
that we would never dance to tacky music for the last time at our 'senior prom'
We had no idea what senior year would be.
But we now know what it was not.
It was not easy
not simple or complete,
straight-forward or whole,
Not ordinary and certainly not fair.
2020 Seniors did not get a senior year.
We did not get open houses for the masses,
Or graduation with peers from our classes.
In kindergarten we were told to stand tall and speak up, and chin up. Make friends because they'll be with you your whole school life. One day you will cross the stage with them.
But senior year we were told to be quiet, wear a mask. Stay inside, don't say goodbye, good luck on your own. You'll graduate alone.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 1:53 AM UTC
for most of the scholars, the future is the stressor
SATs, ACTs, grades, extracurriculars, college apps, jobs
when given notice, anyone can prepare for and deal with a challenge
when one's worries consist only of the future, one is blessed, not cursed
when life is "how can I get through this" instead of "how will I get through that"
it's a problem.
best math student in the school, but he still can't solve the everyday problem
mom dad divorce boyfriend alcoholism violence lawsuits counseling
too many terms, it's unfactorable, it's unfair, this wasn't in the textbook now it's on the test and I can't get a 100
I thought being perfect was the only way?
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC
DOESN'T ANYONE NOTICE THE BEES FLOATING ABOVE THEIR HEADS? DOESN'T ANYONE SEE THE ROUND YELLOW BODIES FLYING THROUGH THE AIR?
They make no buzzing sounds in this building.
Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
What are they trying to pollinate? What flowers are there here for them to reproduce? Where's the wildlife?
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
They're worker bees. They're busy FREAKIN' bees.
There isn't enough time to pollinate all the flowers.
THERE ISN'T ENOUGH TIME TO POLLINATE ALL THE FLOWERS.
Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
Who's the queen bee, then?
Who is it?
Poor little bees are worked to the bone. Too bad they get none of the honey. Some of them are found dead, lifeless on the floor.
WORKED TO THE BONE. Are other bugs working this hard?
They're trapped in this building, cemented, with no choice but to work, work, work.
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
The flowers they are trying to pollinate sound like, "WOW, YOU GO TO CLASSICAL. THAT'S A COLLEGE PREP HIGH SCHOOL. HOW IMPRESSIVE!" "HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT COLLEGE?"
This worker bee isn't trying to hear all that ****
"YOU SHOULD TAKE THE SATs. COLLEGES REALLY LOOK AT THEM."
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
"TAKE ADVANCED CLASSES. THEY'RE IMPORTANT."
SOME OF THEM ARE FOUND DEAD, LIFELESS ON THE FLOOR.
I'm tired of feeling like a dead bee.
Let me fly.
~~a.s.f.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
I’ve told you this before...
but i think of you a lot.
it’s not really intentional,
its just that
everything reminds of you.
when i see a flower-
i think of how good you look in the color pink.
when i think of economics, or politics, i think of you-
because i know how interested you are in those subjects.
when i stare at people for long enough-
their faces start to morph into yours.
and thats why i don’t like to go out anymore.
because everywhere i go,
i see you.
i see you in the scribbles in my journals,
and in the cracks on the sidewalks,
i see you when i press a button in an elevator,
and when I’m filling out a form to sign up for the sats?
don’t ask me why,
because i don’t know...
i just know that it happens.
i know that i know things about you that no one else does.
and you know things about me that no one else does.
you know things about me i wouldn’t want anyone else to know.
i trust you like that.
i think of you as a safe house,
a place where i know that things will be good
eventually.
at least-
i like to hope so.
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 5:42 PM UTC
i always wondered why women get “dolled up”
but men “suit up”
women put on layers of makeup and suffocate themselves wearing corsets
to become an object that a man will like to look at and use
but men clean up and dress professionally
it certainly says a lot about our society
the white woman’s 77 cents to the man’s dollar
and even less for the minority women
the media glorifies women of size 00
which is quite literally less than nothing
women are supposed to be so small
that they are less than zero
science tries to define a woman’s purpose as producing children and taking care of the home
but what about the women who are not fertile and live on the streets?
they will always ask a woman “how does she do it all?”
but when was the last time a man was asked the same question
when both of them have a job and a family to balance
men are not expected to assume the subordinate role
because society deems women to be inferior to men
when women continue to outscore men on the SATs and reading tests
but those men will be given the leadership positions the women rightfully deserve
the objectification
the classification
the learned gender roles
the discrimination
all empower the patriarchy
but we can dismantle it
one empowered woman at a time
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 1:54 AM UTC
Jeg forbyder en morskab
Med for mange principper
Som ingen rigtig forstår
Jeg selv tror, jeg selv ved, med ved det egentlig ikke
Et sats
Pest eller kolera
Som for andre
Blot er chancen
Den der tages
Hvor der gives
En kyklopisk spandfuld af egenskaber
Egenskaber jeg er blevet for gammel til
Eller måske er jeg blot for ung
Men ung og dum
Gammel og klog
Jeg finder da ingen mening
For hvem ved dét
Dét som ingen ved
Her i søgning efter mening
Hvorfor gør jeg det ikke
Hvorfor bliver jeg ved
Med at tænke
Det utænkte
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
You look to the clock and wait for the bell
Work set aside for thoughts of tomorrow
Unable to endure the rest of this class
This day
This year
You view high school as the dark tunnel of your youth
And ask if there's a light at the end
You lose the purpose among other things
Though constantly haunted by reminders of grades
College
SATs
Taken over by stress
And eaten away by uncertainty
Forced to test your comedic abilities
But
You are built with the power of strength
Knowledge
Patience
And each day you grow in these attributes
Maximize your potential
Take weaknesses to your advantage
Now, you look to the clock and wait
Wait for the future you shaped in this class
This day
This year.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
I must've been more stressed than I seemed
Petting my dog, I released a guttural scream
I've been studying projectiles, calculus, and semantic ABCs
I just hope it's enough to get through the SATs
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 7:58 PM UTC
I's don' really know much
only how to cook and clean
fa ma marster's and they chillun
they tries to teach me to read
i's neva liked the white folks edumucation
so I's just stay in the field
spend time with the sun
until the moon comes
and take me on away
das my's only time to heal
from the scars they puts on my skin
from the scars they puts in my mind
from the scars they puts on my family
my brothers and nem
I's wonder all the time
will we ever be free?
I's think of it everyday
cant wait for it to be
Mama always worked in the kitchen
but she has her fav spot
next to the chimney she a sit
listen to the white folks talk
I's pray all the time she ont get caught
one day she heard sumn
mussa been real good
Is seen her smiling
as Jesus himself gon an got mama a new dress
but I's know ha smile na
tha day she sats in a corner listnin'
she hurds them finely' say we's free
we's free
but marster wouldnt let us go
she herd' em tell mistus
he wont let us free till me make sommo'
for thems to eat
but mama hops out that chimey corner
jumps to her feet
I's herd' ha yelling
"I's free I's free'
"then she runs to the field 'gainst marster's will
and tol' all the other slaves n they quit work"
I's seen all the hoes and rakes falls to the dirt
dat nite ma slip out the house
like a banana was at da do'
she hids' in the ditch
I's get snuck out my bed
next I's in mamas arms
I's look at mama's tied' feet
running so fast
to chase her freedom
I's hear shots from *****
dem dogs barking n growlin'
Lord please keep mama safe
and the Lord hears ma prayas'
cause' that nite
afta alls the yelling cryin' n sweating
me and mama
we finely gits away
Copy Right 2020
©PoeticPat
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
With legacy financial options such
As gold or fiat we have no way to
Send and receive lightning quick
Micropayments across the world.
We need a way to send secure
Micro transactions of fractions
Of a penny nearly immediately
Therefore
Let’s continue adopting Bitcoin
And expanding the use of the
Lightning network that enables
These incredibly small amounts.
Each Bitcoin is divided into 100
Million units called Satoshis, or
“Sats” used for micropayments.
Dec 6, 2024
Dec 6, 2024 at 11:37 AM UTC
Bitcoin is open, for all, and free
A better money, for you and me
Satoshi’s gift, growing each year
You can help this new frontier
Donate! Help the Bitcoin teams
Help the world with hopes and dreams
Send some dollars or sats their way
Big or small - it will make their day
Many are working day and night
Share a few sats to help the fight
All together - we can win the war
And open wide the freedom door
Some great Bitcoin teams below
OpenSats.org
SatoshiAction.io
Geyser.fund
TimeChainCalendar.com
TimeChainStats.com
DigitalChamber.org
Jul 23, 2024
Jul 23, 2024 at 8:50 AM UTC
Highschool.
You hear the word, what pops up?
For most adults, the awkward times or the years where you were so irresponsible you can’t believe yourself looking back at the memories. For some, it was violently preparing for university, stressing over your career choice. Many of you had your first boyfriends or girlfriends there. All in all, not bad.
I don’t really have that.
I never felt awkward for a period exceeding 5 minutes or so, I’m barely ever irresponsible (especially not in school), I’m not violently preparing nor am I prepared, especially considering I just realized I should be studying for SATS if I want to go study in California. I don’t have a boyfriend, never did, and I’m not interested in anyone.
Many times, I feel I don’t belong where I am, but not in the sense that I don’t fit in. I can and I do fit in because I choose to, but my full capacity does not. Many times, I’ve been described as wise beyond my years, often asked what I’m studying in university as well. I’ve always connected and interacted better with adults, even as a young girl, and now, my only best friend in the country is a past teacher of mine, while my other best friend lives in England now, and we connect nearly every day.
I am ambitious and intelligent, and I want more out of life. I am deeply moved and inspired by music, finding a passion in it where most only appreciate the tune and connect vaguely with the message. I believe my ability to sing enhances this acuteness as well. I am a highly receptive human being, and I can detect nearly any emotion in the person I’m communicating with, whether they are aware of this emotion or not. I am more deeply aware and knowledgeable than most people are aware of.
I am insecure sometimes. I can be in a bad mood. I’m not perfect. I’m not immune to most things. But I’m always working on it.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC